Read The Devil's Cook for Free Online

wanted. But I’m compelled to point out that a lot of people seem to be jumping to a certain conclusion. It’s being assumed Terry is out having a time. That is not, as I see it, necessarily so.”
    Jay shrugged angrily. “What do you expect me to do?”
    â€œIf I were her husband, I would at least call the hospitals and see if there have been any accidents or anything like that.”
    â€œShe was carrying a purse with identification in it. If she’d been in an accident, I’d have been notified.”
    â€œPerhaps she was mugged and robbed. If so, the mugger would have run off with the purse and thrown it away somewhere.”
    â€œAll right, damn it! If she isn’t back by ten, I’ll call the hospitals. Nothing will come of it, but I suppose I’m expected to act like a husband.”
    â€œIf you ask me, you aren’t even acting like a husband whose wife may be out having a good time.”
    â€œI used to act like one,” said Jay, “but I got tired of it.”
    Farley had been pinching his lower lip, thinking hard. Now he said suddenly to Fanny, “Was there a memo pad on the table by the telephone?”
    â€œI didn’t see any. Why?”
    â€œI was just thinking. When there isn’t anything else handy, don’t women often make notes of appointments on old envelopes, the margins of magazines, things like that?”
    â€œFarley, sometimes you show faint signs of intelligence,” Fanny said. “There are some magazines in that bucket at the end of the sofa. I believe I’ll look at them, Jay, if you don’t mind.”
    â€œHelp yourself,” said Jay.
    The bucket was just that. Fanny removed its contents, half a dozen magazines and a newspaper. Kneeling, she began to examine the magazines, looking at the covers, riffling rapidly through the pages to check the margins. Jay leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, bearing the futility of it all with a pretense of patience; Farley, after a moment, went over and sat down on the end of the sofa, by the bucket He reached for the newspaper and began to examine it, holding it folded over in his hands just as he had picked it up. It was folded twice at a page of classified ads, including a column of personals.
    â€œWait a minute!” Farley’s voice had acquired all at once an excitement qualified by incredulity. “What’s this?”
    â€œWhat’s what?” said Fanny, looking up.
    â€œIt’s damn funny, that’s all I can say. Here, Jay, you’d better read this.”
    Jay Miles opened his eyes. Farley, rising again, walked over and handed him the newspaper, indicating with his index finger an item. Jay stared at the item for a long time. Then he sighed, twisted the paper into a tight roll, and slapped a bony knee with it. Leaning back, he closed his eyes again.
    â€œDamn it, what is it?” Fanny said. “Am I allowed to know, or not?”
    Farley took the paper from Jay’s hand and read aloud: “‘T. M. Friday at three. Stacks. Level C. O.’”
    Fanny jumped up, snatched the paper, and read it for herself. Then, as if to dispose of it once and for all, she dropped the paper back into the wooden bucket.
    â€œThat’s that,” she said. “T. M. is Terry Miles. Today is Friday. Three is when she said she had an appointment. Stacks and level clearly refer to a library, probably the one at the university. But who in hell is O?”
    â€œThat,” Farley said, “is none of your goddam business.”
    Jay stirred. His face was strangely untroubled. The Personal, rather than increasing his anxiety, seemed actually to have relieved it.
    â€œIt’s just a coincidence,” he said.
    â€œAre you serious?” Fanny stared at him. “Some coincidence, if you ask me!”
    â€œNo.” Jay rose and jammed his hands into his pockets, shaking his head with a kind of dogged stubbornness.